The 100 Cases of Son & Briefs
by swirlpop
Summary: For the fanfic100 challenge! More Trunks and Goten goodness than... well... let's just say it's a crapload of Trunks and Goten goodness. There's something for everybody in this collection! Status: 4/100.
1. Foreword

**JKSDFKLADSJF 100 FICS. AHHH.**

Butbutbut...! It's going to be a hell of a lot of sadistic fun, ey?

These are written in response to the fanfic100 challenge over on LJ. 100 prompts, 100 stories, and 100 instances of more Trunks and Goten than you can shake a stick at. I wouldn't have it any other way, though - would you? X)

Each story will correspond to a prompt, and each story will act as a piece of puzzle that creates the big picture. Ultimately, I'd like for each story to do just fine when it's looked at individually, but when they are together, they form something poignant. It's like a series of snapshots that make an art exhibit, or several pieces in a collection at fashion week. That is my goal, here. If you think I fall short, please let me know how I can MAKE IT WORK. (Man, that paragraph had way too much Project Runwayisms in it.)

Stories involving mature/adult themes and concepts will be marked off with an "M" in the chapter title. Stories with Trunks and Goten as a couple, will be marked with a "C". Any other things that may need notice (like non-canon couples) will simply be mentioned at the start of the chapter.

As always, reviews are ever appreciated and loved and snuggled. And eaten. And regurgitated. And loved some more. Even though that's fucked up.

Now, without further ado...


	2. Birth

**001;  
Birth.  
-**

"Oh Chichi, he's too adorable!" Bulma gushed. The latest addition to the Son family was laying on the ground, cooing happily on top of his blanket adorned with the brightest stars and the whitest clouds. The two mothers – hormonal as ever – were at the helm of the view, sitting on the sofa while watching over the child with nothing but adoration.

"What a precious little thing," she continued. "So Goten was the name?" However, Bulma's gushing was soon cut off when out of nowhere, a wild hand tangled into her hair. "Trunks!" she scolded. With a wince, she shifted her son over to her other leg and out of reach of the blue strands slicked behind one ear. "Sh-sh-sh," Bulma assuaged into his ear. "What did I tell you about grabbing mommy's hair?" She bounced him up and down on her knee, attempting to cajole the excited little thing. "There there, it's alright, it's alright..."

Prior to coming over to the Son residence, Bulma had been chatting on the phone with Chichi – they decided that now was the perfect time to introduce Trunks to Goten. It was apparent that the children couldn't be happier about this decision; they were giggling ever since they first saw each other. Now, Trunks was upping the ante and was trying his luck with reaching out to Goten on the ground. "Oh no you don't," Bulma mumbled before latching her arms like a belt around him.

Ignoring Trunks' incessant wiggling, Bulma resumed pouring over the baby. "You know, there's something about him…." She narrowed her eyes as she closely inspected the child – and then came a broad smile filled with nostalgia and recognition. "That's it, he looks exactly like Son-kun!"

"Hn," came a voice from the hallway. "If he looks anything like Kakarotto, he'll be damned for the rest of his life."

"Vegeta!" Chichi and Bulma exclaimed in protest.

"I don't know why you brought me here, you fool of a woman!" Vegeta screeched. He ignored Chichi and directed his spiel to the woman he so regretfully copulated with. "There was no 'grand home-cooked meal' as you promised, and I don't have an idiotic need to fawn over brats for extended periods of time. I'm leaving!" He crossed his arms, haughty as ever, and stomped hard on every step down the stairs.

Bulma rolled her eyes and held her tongue. There was little point in replying or leaving with him; she had plenty of capsules that would take her home. "Anyway, Chichi," she said, completely unfazed by Vegeta's miniature tantrum. "How've you been feeling since you popped this one out? You're doing ok, right?"

Trunks was now giving her an exceptional bout of more trouble. He was, after all, half Saiyajin. With a sigh, Bulma finally gave up and let go; he wriggled out of her arms and unceremoniously plopped down onto the blanket with Goten. His eyes grew wide and bright at the shock of the fall, but he quickly recovered when he discovered he was almost next to the thing he was trying to get to for so long. He gurgled with as much triumph as a one year old could, then let curiosity be his escort as he edged closer towards Goten.

"Oh, yes yes, I'm fine. I'm the World's Strongest Woman, you know." Chichi gave a cheeky wink. "And how is Trunks doing?" She glimpsed down at the purple headed child; she looked rather paradoxical with an affectionate sneer plastered on her face. "You only have one more year until the terrible twos!"

Trunks, who had now reached his destination, looked at Goten with eyes like antique saucers and a mouth in an 'O'. He blinked several times, sizing up the boy, before his mouth opened into a toothless grin. "Ah-ga," he said in his own baby language. "Ah-ga noo na!"

Goten's own eyes went as wide as Trunks' when he heard the boy above him speak. "Aaaa!" was the only noise he could manage with his infantile tongue.

"Teegoo," came the reply. For seemingly no reason whatsoever, the boys started cracking up.

Bulma gave her boy a look filled with sympathy, and arranged her fingers in a delicate lacework in her lap. "Well," she started out, a bit unsure of how to put it, "Vegeta probably won't let the 'terrible' in 'terrible twos' even happen."

Chichi raised an eyebrow. She knew how violent Vegeta could get, but she also knew the influence Bulma had over the man. It was subtle, sleek, and silent – but ever-present and extremely powerful. For example, he did agree to come with the woman, despite her manipulation of his never-ending appetite. "I see," Chichi said with a wise lilt to her tone. "So, will you talk to Ve-"

"Chichi!" interrupted Bulma. "No, wait! Look!" She frantically gestured down to Goten and Trunks and then put her hands up to her cheeks in glee. "Oh, they're just the cutest little things!"

Annoyed from being cut off, Chichi shot an impatient glance down at the children. "What?"

The sight she saw was enough to eradicate every ounce of irritability from her body.

She clasped her hands to her chest and heaved a heavy sigh filled with love and admiration. "Oh Bulma, you're right!"

Wearing identical visages of slumber were Trunks and Goten, snuggled up to each other and impeccable in their innocence.

Chichi and Bulma looked back at each other with shaking, wibbling mouths and eyes filled with enough water to break a dam. The next moment had them clinging to each other and bawling into the other's shoulders. "The pain of childbirth was worth it!" Bulma howled to a ballistic Chichi. "It's so beautiful! Everything is! It's just… it's just all so _beautiful_!"


	3. Club: C, M

**002;  
Club.**  
-

The pulsing beats of the music snaked around like liquid onyx; its black magic assimilated into the crevices of all the ears it could find. Eyes blinked bright and sweat dripped dark in the warehouse-turned-club in West City. Amid the foray, Goten had the honor of being the unnoticeable dark shadow melting into the back corner. He raised his bottle of water to his mouth – he always hated the stifling, sticky-hot-wet feeling that clubs swathed him in. The club was a torrid mistress, but she had to remember that he only put up with her because of Trunks. Trunks was fond of swaying to her rhythm in a drug-induced haze, and Goten reasoned that this casual drug use was because of the urban boy in him. Trunks was always experimenting with moods, syringes, people.

And because of that, Goten felt honored that Trunks gave up his sway to make his way over to talk to him.

"Chibi, aren't you coming to dance?" he yelled, using the nickname especially reserved for Goten. Leaning in closer so his words could be heard, he said, "You never do anything when you come here with me!" He gave a sordid pout and crossed his arms, almost offended.

Chuckling, Goten shouted back over the loud music, "Now you notice?" He looked at Trunks with all amusement while resting his lips on the mouth of the bottle. Despite the hell he was in, his expression reflected a look devoid of all contempt. As long as he could remember, he had no problems following Trunks whereever he went. Of course, he would voice an '_I'm not sure...' _or an _'I don't think this will work...'_ quite often, but he always ended up doing whatever plan Trunks' mischeivous mind hatched. That's how it always was. That's how it always would be, most likely. Goten shivered - he didn't want to give that idea thought. The future was frightening enough already.

Trunks rolled his eyes and deliberately wrapped his arms around Goten's neck, reveling in the look of sheer horror on the other boy's face. To him, everything was moving in slow motion - it was a sludge that reminded him of warm nights and sweet breath and gentle lights. It was slow. And it was good. He moved his face even closer to Goten's and gazed into the flabbergasted black eyes across from him. "Dance with me."

"Here?" Goten exclaimed in a hiss. His cheeks flushed and he pushed Trunks' arms off his neck, glancing around in unease. "In public? No way! You're high as a kite!" A man and woman grinding on the dance floor carelessly jostled into them; they passed as fast as they came.

This motion chasséd Trunks into Goten. The drug-addled boy lurched forward as Goten shot out his hands to to steady him; he anchored his hands on Trunks' shoulders. "Get a hold of yourself," he scolded, with a worried frown marring his face.

"...I-I think I'm going to puke," Trunks stuttered while trying to cover his mouth.

And before Goten knew it, he had dinner all over his shirt.


	4. Sunset

_Note: For the sake of this fic, the first time Goten uses the Kamekameha (so damn cute) is NOT at the Budokai Tenkaichi, and he also  
already knows how to fly. Trunks also became a Super Saiyajin before him. This is just full of AU-ness, eh?_

**003;  
Sunset.**  
-

"Trunks!" cried an excited Goten. "Look at me, look at me! I'm doing it!" The signature, goofy grin of the Son males was shining bright on the boy's face. His smile wasn't the only thing that shone; the extreme amounts of ki around his body crackled and reflected all the light it could rope into its aura.

Trunks, with his folded arms and inspecting look, clearly looked like he belonged to the Vegeta bloodline. His mouth attempted to upturn in a display of nonchalant approval, but he could never pretend to be mature around his best friend. As soon as the black ball of what one could call hair shot up into yellow spikes, Trunks lost his pretense. "Goten!" he cried, equally as excited as his counterpart. "Goten, you really are doing it!" A giant grin, more reminiscent of his mother, permanently attached itself to his face. "You're finally on my level, now!" he jabbed.

"That's not funny," Goten said through a frown. He was trying his best to concentrate on this new level of power while talking. "You're older than I am! Of course you're going to be a Super Saiyajin before me!"

Trunks held his position and scoffed. "Big deal. The point is, I was a Super Saiyajin before you! Nyah!" He stuck his tongue out at Goten and turned around, only to wag his rear at the boy. In his confidence, Trunks made a dire mistake – turning his back to a scorned Goten.

"Kamekameha!"

Trunks went flying as a red-hot ball of energy squarely hit him on his behind. His limbs sprawled helplessly before he landed on his belly with not even a thimbleful of grace. "Ah, ch-ch-ch," he groaned while slowly getting up. After gathering his bearings, he wasn't sure about what he was more angry about: the fact that Goten's mispronounced Kamehameha actually hit him, or that Goten attacked him while his back was turned.

"Oi, Goten!" he yelled, highly annoyed. "What'd you do that for?" He rubbed his lower back and winced; the Kamekameha was much more powerful when Goten was a Super Saiyajin. With indignation, Trunks tossed his head and twisted his mouth at the now sheepish boy across from him.

One glimpse at the truly sorry face quickly quelled his annoyance, and his sneer immediately fell. He could never stay irritated at his partner in crime – and he knew from personal experience that you could become quite different when you transformed into a Super Saiyajin.

Goten flew over to Trunks and squatted next to him. "Sorry, sorry!" he said while laughing and scratching the back of his head. "It's a little hard to control myself, I guess." He patted Trunks' back in sympathy. "That should show you, though! You may have been a Super Saiyajin before me, but I'm still stronger!" He plopped down onto the ground next to Trunks and started giggling, thoroughly pleased with himself.

This insult, was in turn, Goten's dire mistake.

"Why, you..."

In a sudden clap of burning light, Trunks became a Super Saiyajin. Goten barely had time to register what was happening, because Trunks had easily grabbed him by the collar and chucked him off into the sunset blanketing the sky. "Eh?" Goten cheeped. Trunks shot his right arm forward and held his palm towards Goten, who was quickly becoming a smaller and smaller dot against the horizon. "Target practice!" he said cheerily. He powered a strong ki blast in his hand and shot it in Goten's direction. Sure enough, the blast made contact, and the boy fell to the ground with his clothes in a crisp. "Gah!" Goten yelled in surprise. "No, no, no!"

He blinked in confusion and pain as he held out and looked at his sooty hands.

A second of stunned hesitation passed.

And then his silence broke.

"Waah, Trunks-kun!" he wailed in a loud voice. "That's not fair!"

Trunks, wrinkling his face in disbelief, hastily flew over to Goten. "What?" With a huff, he propped his tightened fists on his hips. "Uh-uh, I don't think so! You attacked me when my back was turned, remember?"

"…Oh. Hee!"

"That's all you're going to do? Laugh about it?"

Goten kept snickering.

"Laugh about this, then!" he taunted before rushing his best friend.

The two exchanged blows and blocks and punches, convinced that the other was the only person deserving of such. Through gasps of laughter, they flitted in and out of ki blasts and streaks of afterblows like deft, otherworldly creatures. With every shot came a counter-shot – and it was a sight to sore Saiyajin eyes to see these two glorious, golden boys fall against the vista of the sinking sun.


	5. Taste: C, M

**004;  
Taste.**  
-

Son Goten was shaking his leg and chewing on his bottom lip way too hard. Shooting the breeze with his best friend in the privacy of his bedroom always led to precarious Situations, and he was expecting a Situation to crop up at any moment now.

As soon he bit through his lip and tasted the first tang of blood, his shaking leg came to a standstill. He was done for.

Blood seeped hot and metallic along Goten's lips; his lower lip turned to a glossy red, ripe like a crisp autumn apple. He ran his tongue over the wound, trying to stem the blood before _he_ noticed, but it was too late. Trunks' eyes glazed over when he spotted the pair of lips taunting him with the reward of a sumptuous, honeyed taste.

He couldn't help but bite.

"Ungh, Trunks!" Goten managed to sputter out. "That hurts!" The offending mouth moved around the perimeter of Goten's own mouth, giving chaste kisses and taking sweet nips where it could.

"So sweet," Trunks commented breathlessly, mindful of nothing but himself.

He hadn't seen Goten for way too long due to searching for the Black Star Dragon Balls. Most nights on the spaceship, he would drift off to sleep quivering underneath his blanket, dreaming of lapping up all the different swirls of lusciously delectable flavors Goten could possibly offer. Oh yes – without a doubt, he had been away for far too long. Tonight, he was going to make sure he would wreck his body from overdosing on every bit of Goten his tongue could find.

"Trunks!" Goten snapped his best friend out of his reverie by placing his hands on Trunks' head and pushing it backwards. Trunks groaned in heavy protest when his mouth lost contact with the source of the ambrosia he had pined after for so long. "What now?" he whined.

"I know you missed me and all," Goten said with indifference while keeping a firm hold on Trunks' head, "but aren't you at least going to tell me about your trip?"

Ah, so that was it – the cause of disinterest, the reason why Goten wasn't writhing in bliss above Trunks' body right at this very moment. Paresu had tided Goten over in his absence. Trunks felt his heart sink slightly at the thought – but at the same time, he knew that no one could make Goten scream and shake in ecstasy like he could.

"No," Trunks replied. "I'm not going to tell you about it right now." He leaned back into the comfort of Goten's soft lips, sampling the taste of the bough deliberately, assuredly, and knowingly. He then pulled back, only to rest his mouth against Goten's ear with a wicked smile curling up onto his face. "But what I _am_ going to do," he said in a dangerously low voice, "is fuck you. I'm going to fuck you, and I'm going to fuck you hard. I'm going to fuck you into the mattress, fuck you into the boxspring, fuck you into the bedframe, and then fuck you into the floor. I'm going to fuck you all over this room."

Goten's face turned a deep shade of red as he gulped and let out a little squeak. The knot of heated lust that had been locked away for so long quickly started untangling in the depths of his belly. He knew it. He was done for. He knew it from the very start – he was completely and utterly _done for_.


End file.
